


These New York City Streets Get Colder

by MonPetitParselmouth



Series: Endless Cycle of Vengeance [5]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Chemicals, Explosions, First Kiss, Gen, M/M, Sarcasm, Sort Of, grey eyes are harder to describe than you think, jeffmads - Freeform, no twitter interludes for a change, read: Angelica schuyler, science is just really awesome okay, very literal title lyric interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-19 18:36:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14243346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonPetitParselmouth/pseuds/MonPetitParselmouth
Summary: “We aren’t all mad scientists like you.”“I am not a mad scientist,” Thomas objected, miffed.“The fact that you casually keep the world’s most explosive chemical on your nightstand says otherwise.”(Or, Laf freezes over Manhattan, Adrienne comes dangerously close to fourth-wall awareness, and the ‘how do you know you’re in love’ conversation.)





	These New York City Streets Get Colder

_cat texted you on Sunday at 8:04 am_

 

cat: sooooooo

 

laf: sooooooo what

 

cat: just sooooooo

 

cat: how’s life

 

laf: currently relatively boring

 

cat: k then

 

laf: you?

 

cat: same same

 

cat: little humid, actually

 

cat: i kinda wish it was cooler

 

laf: hmmmm

 

cat: uh 

 

cat: lafayette

 

laf: oui, maria?

 

cat: why is it suddenly like -50 degrees out 

 

cat: and why is there fROST ON MY WINDOW??!!??

 

laf: careful what you wish for

 

cat: gAH

 

»»-------------¤-------------«« 

 

_Chat: where we plan the destruction of nyc_

 

arsonist: MARIE-JOSEPH WHATEVER THE HELL THE REST OF YOUR NAMES ARE LAFAYETTE

 

Wraith: Oh, no.

 

arsonist: I WILL TRACK YOU DOWN

 

Wraith: Don’t harm Lafayette, Thomas.

 

arsonist: AND I WILL EXPLODE YOUR GUTS

 

Cataclysm: spontaneous combustion is a form of harm

 

arsonist: DO YOU THINK I CARE

 

arsonist: it is FREEZING

 

arsonist: and it is LAF’S FAULT

 

the marquis: bonjour

 

Cataclysm: speak of the devil

 

Wraith: @Cataclysm Isn’t that you?

 

the marquis: oooooooooooooh

 

the marquis: b u r r n 

 

arsonist: @the marquis HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO US

 

Wraith: Technically, he texted. 

 

arsonist: SEMANTICS

 

Cataclysm: well it IS kinda freezing

 

arsonist: KINDA??????

 

Cataclysm: ok VERY freezing

 

Cataclysm: let’s try not to kill laf tho

 

arsonist: AND WHY THE HELL NOT

 

Wraith: Because, Thomas, he’ll un-freeze the city eventually. 

 

the marquis: no promises there, mon ami

 

Cataclysm: @the marquis in that case, I’ll fetch the firewood for your funeral pyre do u want oak or birch?

 

arsonist: screw y’all

 

»»-------------¤-------------«« 

 

It was cold. It was cold it was cold it was _really cold_ , and Adrienne didn’t particularly care if she sounded repetitive right then, because it was cold it was cold it was cold. And she was right in the middle of the street.

Once she had finished alternatively bemoaning her fate and condemning whichever one of the crazy supervillains that this awful city housed was behind this to the deepest pits of Tartarus, since she was getting tired of condemning people to normal hell, she pulled out her phone, shivering slightly, and wondered whether that insanely long run-on sentence was even grammatically possible. 

(Which. No, it wasn’t.)

James had posted about the situation already on Twitter. Of course he had, that was practically his job, and there shouldn’t be anything strange about that, but one thing about the tweet caught Adrienne’s eye. 

 

James Madison @OfficialHeroWatch

As you New Yorkers out there are aware, most of Upper Manhattan has been frozen over.

 

James Madison @OfficialHeroWatch

Scratch that. _All_ of Upper _and_ Lower Manhattan, courtesy of #Marquis

 

_#Marquis._

_Marquis._

 

She shot off a quick text to James: _who is the marquis?_

The reply was close to instantaneous.

 

jemmy james: You don't know?

 

adrienne: obviously not

 

jemmy james: New villain, used to be a hero (for like 12 hrs), kinda crazy and doesn't follow the rules of the other villains

 

jemmy james: That really annoys them btw but I think they’re friends anyway

 

jemmy james: [ _Picture attached_ ]

 

jemmy james: that’s him

 

It was an image of a masked figure in a navy, gold-trimmed supersuit, cut almost like those old, aristocratic revolutionary coats. Adrienne squinted; she could make out a pair of hard, gleaming hazel eyes glowing through the blood-red mask, glittering malevolently, twin chips of brownish-green ice.

Adrienne gazed at it for a second before a sudden thought occurred to her.

 

adrienne: you talk as if you know them

 

adrienne: the supervillains I mean

 

jemmy james: Ha

 

Adrienne frowned. There had been a conspicuous pause between her last text and  James’. _Oh, well,_ she decided, putting it down to him being distracted for a minute or something. Probably by that girl he’d talked about, Dolley, or his boyfriend Thomas, who he’d brought her to meet once. He’d struck her as a little strange, maybe even familiar, and ridiculously flamboyant (who even wears a magenta scarf? _Not Adrienne_ is who) but he was okay. 

Aaaand she was already getting distracted. 

Tucking a strand of her dark-gold hair, bleached to a pale sandy hue in the  cold, behind her ear and pulling her purple sweater closer around her, Adrienne made her way down the street. 

Maybe she was looking around for somebody matching the picture James had sent her, but if she was, well, it wasn’t anyone else’s damn business, was it?

 

»»-------------¤-------------«« 

 

_Chat: how is this even our lives (aka trying to keep the city from getting blown up)_

 

Icarus: I cannot BELIEVE Lafayette right now!

 

lady liberty: neither can I. why doesn’t he just come talk to us?

 

lady liberty: it would make things so much easier

 

lady liberty: wouldn’t be all of this craziness going on

 

Archangel: our duty is supposed to be protecting the city

 

Archangel: and here we are sitting at home and shivering and doing decidedly absolutely nothing

 

bluephoenix: well what are we supposed to do about this?

 

Archangel: beats me

 

Icarus: Thank you, Mileva Einstein, for that brilliant, insightful advice.

 

bluephoenix: be nice alex

 

lady liberty: @Icarus yeah, drop the sarcasm 

 

Archangel: why mileva and not Albert tho that makes no sense

 

Icarus: LONG LIVE MILEVA EINSTEIN SHE WAS A FRIGGIN G E N I U S

 

Icarus: UNLIKE YOU

 

Archangel: gee, friendly

 

lady liberty: you can also drop the sarcasm

 

Archangel: @lady liberty I cannot, actually, as it doesn’t have physical form

 

Archangel: @Icarus also how can you say ‘long live mileva einstein' if she died like a century ago

 

Icarus: …

 

Icarus: Suffer in hell, infernal woman.

 

Archangel: great, see ya there!

 

»»-------------¤-------------«« 

 

“How do you know if you’re in love with someone?” asked James abruptly, from where he sat on Thomas’s balcony next to Maria Lewis. The rest of Thomas’ self-proclaimed ‘squad’—Dolley and the other villains—were inside, because _cold_.

Maria looked startled, then gazed at the rapidly darkening cerulean sky as if pondering his question. “Well—” she began, then stopped. 

“Well?” he prompted, resting his chin on his hand. 

“You don’t,” she said simply, a knowing gleam in her eye, and James felt a sudden  rush of discomfort, as if Maria was the mind reader, not Thomas. It was. . . disconcerting.

Perhaps sensing this, Maria smiled gently and, without a word, retreated back into Thomas’s aunt’s apartment, leaving James to his thoughts.

From the moment he had set eyes on Thomas, James mused speculatively, he had been absolutely smitten. 

Okay, so maybe that was pushing it a little, but he had definitely had a crush on him for a while, even if he was only admitting it now. He’d been enraptured by every part of Thomas, even the absurd magenta scarf and ridiculously curly hair that was always falling in his eyes. And when he’d found out that Thomas was the Arsonist, he’d been dumbfounded to discover that he legitimately didn’t care. 

His feelings weren’t reciprocated, though, that much he knew. Thomas had never shown any kind of interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with anyone, instead focusing on his insane supervillain schemes. Often James felt like he was fighting a battle with the city for Thomas’s attentions, and he was losing. 

At least he had a best friend in Thomas, James reflected as he stood up and followed Maria inside, pausing to softly shut the screen door behind himself. He had a best friend in him. 

And for right now, that was enough.

 

»»-------------¤-------------«« 

 

It was slightly less freezing than before, since Thomas’s flames had heated the apartment thoroughly and Laf’s ice had mostly melted. Lafayette himself had probably lifted the effect of his powers on the literal air, so it felt more humid than frigid, the way it had been earlier that day. Ergo, everyone had left to go back home. 

Everyone, that is, except for James. 

Aaron had slipped out last with a small wink. Now Thomas was left alone with James, and all he could do about it was inwardly vow to get back at Aaron next time _he_ was in an uncomfortable situation. Because _Jesus_ it felt strange looking at James, even though Thomas knew it was _just James_ , and for some reason he couldn’t quite place, whenever he was alone with him, a tight knot formed in his stomach, and his temperature rose. Thomas didn’t understand, and so he shied away from it. 

“Hey, Thomas?”

James’ voice, an endearing mixture of nervousness and curiosity, interrupted Thomas’s internal cursing of every one of Aaron Burr’s ancestors, making him start slightly and then relax into a smile. _Yeah,_ he decided. _I like it when he says my name like that._

_Wait, nope, not thinking about that right now._ “Yeah, Jemmy?” was all he said. 

“What’s this?”

Thomas glanced over his shoulder to see James frowning at the test tube of bubbling liquid sitting by his bed. “Azidoazide azide.” He turned back to staring blankly at the wall and praying that somebody would save him from awkward social situations like this one in the future. 

_It’s James,_ he told himself to qualm the panic in his chest that was beginning to rise whenever he looked at James. _Your best friend, remember? Nothing to worry about._

There was a sudden explosion and the sound of a human yelp, both of which caused Thomas to automatically hurl out a blast of his powers, making whatever had just exploded disintegrate mid-air into ash. Heaving a sigh, Thomas turned around again to see James blinking in a startled, guilty fashion, his eyebrows slightly singed and his clothes covered in soot. Fragments of broken glass littered the floor. 

“Jemmy, what part of ‘azidoazide azide’ do you not understand?”

“Literally any of it?”

“It is. The world’s. Most. Explosive. Chemical,” said Thomas through gritted teeth. “It’ll go off if you so much as _look_ at it funny.”

“You could have _told_ me that,” James complained, brushing ash—or something worse, but Thomas would prefer not to think about that—off his shoulders “We aren’t all mad scientists like you.”

“I am _not_ a mad scientist,” Thomas objected, miffed. 

“The fact that you casually keep _the world’s most explosive chemical_ on your nightstand says otherwise.”

“Touché,” acknowledged Thomas before launching into an explantation. “It’s unstable because the nitrogen atoms aren’t in a triple bond nitrogen form! So it blows up! Cool, huh?”

“You,” said James flatly, “are absolutely insane.”

It wasn't the first time Thomas had heard _that_. He doubted that Maria said it any less than once a day. But when it was _James_ saying it, it made him want to just vanish into thin air, because his face was getting almost unbearably warm. “So I’ve been told,” he replied, masking the blush.

A pause. 

“Uh, sorry for exploding your . . . thing,” offered James, although he looked rather relieved. 

Thomas waved the apology away, his mind already whirring with the idea of a new experiment. “It’s fine, I have nitrogen triiodide in my dresser drawer as a backup.”

Another, slightly more awkward pause.

“Er.”

“Yeah?” He pulled on a pair of gloves. 

“How on earth did you smuggle two probably illegal to own chemicals into your bedroom, and also why the hell are you not dead?”

Thomas gave James a jaunty wink that was definitely not flirty _not flirty_ and began to scoop up the glass. “One, political influence and access to my aunt’s credit card information. Two, superpowers here, remember?”

“I can’t decide which of those is scarier.” Leaning away from the liquid-spattered mess, James stood there, not saying anything more. That was fine with Thomas, who was rather preoccupied with scraping bits of hazardous chemical off of his bedroom floor, but then, he did that every other week, so it wasn’t much of a job. 

When he’d properly disposed of the mess—and not necessarily _safely_ , just _properly_ —he turned around to see James _literally_ _two inches away from him._

He could feel his heart hammering far faster than the speed of light, adrenaline shooting through his body for some reason that he couldn't quite place. James’s eyes—not quite grey, not quite silver, but that lustrous shade somewhere between a sharp shard of steel and the soft, muted underbelly of a cloud during a sunset— were bright in the artificial light, like the crystal sky after a storm. Thomas could make out every little streak in them, ranging from slivers of beryl to lightning-like lines of reddish-purplish wine. 

It took Thomas, who was immersed in those eyes, a few seconds longer than it ought have to realize that James had tilted his head sideways, leaned up, and melded their lips together. 

James Madison was _kissing him._

The feeling of James’s hands around his waist, his warm breath coming in ragged spurts against his lips, stunned him so that he stood frozen for a moment, ice trickling into his blood. He managed to gather his wits about him quickly enough to kiss back, just as desperately as the other, impatiently pressing harder, the unique taste of James’ mouth flooding his senses. 

They both pulled away from lack of air, Thomas gasping slightly, and opened his eyes—when had he closed them?—to James’s crooked smile, and if his pulse stopped then and there because of that adorably mischievous look on his friend’s face, well, nobody could prove it. 

“So are we. . . ?” he started. 

In response, James leaned in further and kissed him again. 

So, no. Thomas didn’t understand what was happening to him.

But he didn’t particularly dislike it, either. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> JeffMads <3


End file.
